


The pain ain't hurting me

by reginamillsinlove



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Cunnilingus, F/F, Knight Kara Danvers, Queen Lena Luthor, Some fighting but nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginamillsinlove/pseuds/reginamillsinlove
Summary: When an unknown knight challenges Queen Lena for the crown she chooses Kara for her champion. Kara is more than happy to protect her queen. When the fight is over Lena is there to take care of her.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 19
Kudos: 639





	The pain ain't hurting me

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to write a viking!au but this is what happened instead. Hope y'all enjoy it.

As soon as the Knight takes his gauntlet from his arm and hurls it at the Queen’s feet there is pandemonium. The gentry is appalled at the gall of this man, this would-be usurper. Guards stumble over themselves to reach the Queen and protect her. The old men of the Queen’s council in the front of the throne room erupt in whispers. Some of them seem almost glad for this challenger, almost happy at the possibility of a man in charge, rather than the Queen who allowed them their position, their power, and their very many sins.

It is unlike anything Kara has seen in all her years as a knight for the Queen. She’s been on her personal protection detail for a good few months now and while she’s heard the occasional whisper of discontent—the townsfolk will always complain about the taxes they must pay—there’s never been rumours of a coup. At least none that she is aware of.

“Do you accept my challenge or will you prove yourself unworthy of the crown you wear by default?” the Knight asks, his voice ringing loudly through the hall, echoing off the limestone walls and its high, vaulted ceilings.

For a moment or two a tense silence hushes over them all. The Queen’s piercing green eyes narrow dangerously before she gets up from her throne, waving off one of the guards who means to get in front of her, and takes two quick steps in the direction of this invader. She takes a deep breath, looks around the room, capturing the attention of anyone watching her, and then turns to him.

“You think you can come in here, throw a gauntlet at my skirts and demand to be… what exactly? King?”

“Anyone can challenge,” the Knight says in an attempt to defend himself.

“Anyone can not,” Queen Lena snaps. “My father was king of this realm before me and my child shall be King after me. This is the law. You coming in here like some rogue and challenging me for the title like an equal is an affront to everything we stand for.”

The Knight remains quiet for a second and Kara swears she can see a hint of hesitation creep into him. She leans back against the wall and watches the interaction with rapt attention. Her fighting hand rests on the hilt of a knife she carries on her belt, but she is otherwise calm. If it comes to it, she’ll protect the Queen before the man can even reach for his weapon, but she doesn’t foresee any trouble. It is a fight he wants, a spectacle. Surely he isn’t stupid enough to make an attempt on the monarch’s life right in front of the entire court?

“Then the law ought to be different, and it shall be when I am king,” he says, straightening his shoulders and looking around the hall importantly. “I challenge you to a fight to the death, winner takes all.”

Before the Queen can respond he has turned around and left the room. A handful of guards mean to follow him but one shake of Lena’s head has them halting in place.

It is silent for only a moment, but then, again, mayhem ensues as every knight in the room, all but Kara, steps forward, and gets on one knee in front of the Queen, begging for the honour of fighting in her stead.

“Let me be your champion,” one man says. “I will not let you down.”

Kara fights back a snort as she recognizes the man. Sir Michael is a knight only in name, the title bought for him by his wealthy mother, but not in deeds. She’s fought the man a handful of times and there’s not an ounce of skill there. If Queen Lena chooses him she’ll be dead by the dawn and the traitor will be crowning himself while her body is not yet cold.

More and more men beg her for the honour, citing their many—no doubt exaggerated—victories and combat skills. It is pathetic, Kara thinks, how eager they are for this honour. Almost like they have no other accomplishments to boast of. Of course she doesn’t have many of her own. She is too young to have led any armies into battle. She’s won a handful of jousts, and has beaten every knight at the court in playful combat, but those hardly count as accomplishments. She has brought to silver to the Queen’s coffers, has won her no lands, but she’s protected her life a handful of times and, honestly, Kara is quite content with her life at the castle. She has a warm bed to sleep in, a good meal to fill her belly, and just enough excitement to keep her on her toes.

Queen Lena surveys the many volunteers with a practised coolness and then turns to Kara, the only knight in the room left on her feet. Her eyes narrow suspiciously and with a flourish of her skirts she’s turned around and made her way over.

Kara pushes back from the wall and straightens up a little. No matter how friendly they have become, it does not do to show disrespect to the Queen, certainly not in public. Disrespecting her, humiliating her like that is the last thing Kara wants to do.

“You don’t beg for the honour of fighting for me?” the Queen asks.

Kara fights back a smirk at the haughtiness in her voice. This is the bratty, spoiled Queen she had come to know when she first arrived at the court, in all her splendour. It isn’t a sight she sees much any more but she can’t deny she likes it. As much as her Queen is kind, and generous, and caring, she does have a bratty streak. She is so used to getting what she wants that she can’t help stomping her foot on the floor in frustration whenever Kara doesn’t give it to her right away. It is endearing. And funny. Mostly.

“Would you like me to?” Kara asks, choosing her words carefully. They tease each other. It is a part of their dynamic, but here, in the sight of every Noble and knight of the realm, she must be careful not to push it too far.

“What kind of question is that?”

The glint in Lena’s eyes makes it almost easy to throw caution to the wind, and with only a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips she says, “I figured you have enough sycophants in your court willing to beg, but I will if you require it of me.”

“You are my knight.”

“I am,” Kara acquiesces. “I will fight for you if you ask it of me. And if you will it, I shall get down on my knees, and _beg_ you for the pleasure.”

Not a hint of a lie. There is very little she wouldn’t do if Lena asked it of her, and she knows that Lena knows. She has not yet been able to deny her a single thing, and this will not be the first time she does. What is a fight, anyway, if not something she’s been training hard for ever since she’s been able to hold a sword in her hand?

“Why not right away as is expected of you?” The Queen raises one of her unfairly perfect eyebrows as she fights a smirk of her own and Kara knows she’s in no real trouble.

“As I said. Enough sycophants.”

The Queen looks her up and down, before pushing an escaped curl away from Kara’s face. “So what? You thought you’d stand out? Be different?”

“Well, I’ve never been accused of being quite like anyone else,” Kara says. It is almost too cheeky, and when she sees the tiniest hint of annoyance in Lena’s eyes she lowers her gaze and adds a demure, “Your Majesty” to her comment.

It is not enough to please her.

“You’ll fight,” Lena decides.

Every knight behind her groans in disappointment and it takes everything Kara has not to shoot them a smug grin. The honour is hers, and she hasn’t even had to beg for it.

“Of course.”

“And you’ll win,” the Queen says, like it’s a foregone conclusion.

And really… It is.

“That won’t be a problem.”

* * *

The fight is only a day later. The arena is filled up with curious townsmen and members of the Queen’s court. Everyone has come to see this rogue knight taking on the Queen’s champion.

It is hard to tell if they are hoping for a new monarch, which Kara can’t imagine is the case, or if they’re just hungry for a fight. Kara supposes the other knights at least are in two minds. They will want the Queen to keep her crown—they did swear fealty to her after all, and really, she’s not so bad as monarch—but they’ll want to see Kara lose.

It is no secret that the other knights envy her position in the court. Kara knows it, has known it from the start. Lena is a stunningly beautiful woman, with her bright green eyes, pale skin, dark hair, and luscious lips. Any man would fight to the death a thousand times to be allowed as much time in her presence as Kara is. The fact that she’s the best fighter of all of them by quite some distance doesn’t help her case. Their jealousy has never bothered her and she’s not about to let it now.

Even from her tent, where her squire busies himself with her armour, she can hear the roar of the crowd as it hypes itself up for what is sure to be an exciting battle. Kara barely knows this knight she is meant to fight. Queen Lena told her he is from a faraway region of the kingdom. She met him once, as a child, and couldn’t think of anything she personally did to offend him.

Kara doesn’t care about his reasons, or his delicate feelings. She’ll chop him down like a rotten oak and show everyone there is no mercy for people who threaten the life of her Queen.

“Are you ready?” Winslow, her squire, asks as he fastens the last of the straps on her chest plate.

Kara nods. “I’ll be fine.”

“He seems a big man,” he comments. As soon as he’s done with the chest plate he hands her her helmet and goes to fetch her some wine. “Strong.”

“Am I not strong?” Kara asks him, a smile teasing at her lips as she takes the cup from him. She empties it in a few big gulps. “Am I not big?”

“Bigger than the average woman, to be sure,” he replies with a placating pat to her bicep. “And of course you are strong, but—”

“I’ll hear no more of it. You have seen me fight; you should know better than to assume strength is everything.”

Before he can reply with what is sure to be another sassy comment, the tent opens to reveal Queen Lena herself, in all her glory. Kara allows herself a second to admire the bright green dress she has chosen for the occasion, and how it complements her eyes so beautifully.

“Knight,” the Queen says as she comes to a halt before her. “Are you ready for this?”

“I was born for this,” Kara replies, confidently. “Do not fret, Your Majesty, the rogue stands no chance.”

Lena smiles gently at her and rests a hand on her armour-clad shoulder. “I put my faith in you, above all others.”

“You will not regret it.”

Kara can feel last night’s well-wishes burning on her back, still. The quiet requests for victory— _please_ —drawn upon the skin of her chest in the darkness of the early morn. She knows the Queen wishes to live, and Kara cannot bear the thought of the alternative. She will win. For her kingdom, for her family, but most of all for the prettiest pair of eyes she has ever seen and the kindest heart she has ever held in her hands.

Lena places a hand on Kara’s cheek and forces their eyes to meet. In them, Kara sees everything she needs in order to win this fight.

Before she knows it Winslow hands her a sword, one special made for her on her eighteenth birthday, from the strongest steel the kingdom can provide, and pushes her out of the tent and into the arena where Goliath awaits David.

* * *

The fight takes longer than she would like it to. Kara will admit to a smidgen of arrogance on her side. She’s had to fight all her life to be better than the boys she grew up with, and then the men who’d been training for much longer than her, and perhaps she’s been taking her resulting superiority for granted over the last few years.

Things have been relatively easy for her of late; the knights at the court know better than to taunt her and it has been a long while since she was given a proper fight. As soon as this Rogue’s sword meets her own she knows she’s finally found one.

Sweat stings her eyes as she forces them to stay open. She can’t lose sight of her opponent. He might not be as quick as her, but it is obvious he is stronger, and even the smallest loss of concentration could end with her head on the sand. And her head means Lena’s head and she cannot let it happen. Not on her watch. Not ever.

The first time he slams his sword into her armour she has to fight to stay upright as the wind is slammed out of her. He grants her no time to rest and it takes the use of her shield to block his oncoming blows.

The second time it puts her to the ground. Her cheek splits open on a small rock in the sand and she can feel the grains sticking to her bloodied face as she pushes herself back up. When she looks up she sees the Rogue holding his sword up in the air, showing the onlookers the strength of their new king.

Kara is having none of it. She shares a second of eye contact with Lena, who sits perched up on a podium, above the others, and then rushes into the man, bashing her shoulder into his armoured back. He stumbles forward, not having expected her to recover so quickly, and Kara makes good use of this momentary weakness as she slams her sword into his body.

There are too many blows dealt, Kara thinks, as she feels another bruise forming on her leg. Lucky she has the Queen’s favour and armour made of proper iron.

“Just yield,” the rogue knight grunts as their swords meet once more. “Yield and I will spare your life if not your Queen’s.”

Kara shakes her head. She will not be dragged into dialogue with this man. It can only serve as a distraction, and, anyway, as much as she values her own life she would never dream of exchanging it for Lena’s. Instead she intensifies her blows.

It is a tight affair, in the end, but just when Kara fears she might have to give up, when oxygen struggles to find her lungs, and bruises are forming on most of her limbs, she catches him unawares and brings him to the sand. His hand loses grip on his sword and Kara quickly kicks it aside.

She doesn’t like to kill, but she will if it is necessary. And this man threatened her Queen’s life. It feels necessary. But Lena brings an end to it all just as Kara has brought the tip of her sword to the man’s exposed neck. A handful of guards rush into the arena to take the Rogue into custody. Kara expects he will find his death soon enough, just not at her sword, and for that she is quietly thankful.

Her eyes meet Lena’s once more before Winslow comes rushing onto the sand with a cloth in hand. He wipes away the blood from her cheek, taking great care not to aggravate the wound further.

“You were amazing!” he exclaims as he turns the cloth around to dab at another, smaller, wound on her forehead. “I never doubted you, of course. But wow, you took his blows like no problem!”

“Thank you, Winn.” Kara sounds as tired as she feels and Winslow is quick to take her by the arm and lead her out of the arena and back to her tent. Before they leave, however, Kara catches one last glimpse of Lena, who nods and places a hand on her heart. Kara knows she is proud.

* * *

It is almost easy to forget her sore muscles and newly scabbing facial wounds when soft hands rub all of her most sensitive spots with such reverence. Kara doesn’t even think about her bruised thighs as Lena’s warm mouth attacks her neck in an effort to add some more pleasurable bruises.

She reaches out to grab a hold of Lena’s face and brings their mouths together. Here, naked but warm on the many furs that cover Lena’s bed she feels no pain, only pleasure and gratitude that they are both safe and alive. She would fight a thousand men to keep Lena safe, to ensure them a future, or just one more night like this. One more night on a soft bearskin, in front of the fire, holding Lena’s breasts in her battered hands, lavishing kisses onto every inch of her soft, pale skin. Just one more moment is worth every bruise and cut a hundred times over.

“Did you fight for yourself or for me?” Lena asks teasingly as her lips trail down Kara’s torso, lingering momentarily around her stiffened nipples.

Kara fights back a moan and instead tangles her fingers into Lena’s long, dark hair.

“Why should I have to choose?”

It is a game they play, where Kara makes life difficult for Lena by never answering her questions directly and Lena tries her best to fluster or intimidate her knight. It’s a dangerous game, and she knows she takes it too far sometimes, but Lena never fails to smirk at her when she does and it is that smirk that makes it impossible to stop. Lena doesn’t want to hear how much Kara cares for her, or at least Kara doesn’t think so. She doesn’t, and yet she requires it from all her knights. Their unwavering loyalty and devotion. A willingness to die for their Queen.

“Because I ask you to.” Lena leans back, and Kara misses the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her tongue, immediately. She’d answer any question to get them back. “Tell me, Kara.”

“I fought for both of us. If I lost he would’ve killed me. And also you.”

Lena pushes herself away from Kara and the young knight is instantly distracted by the vision that is her Queen, naked on top of her. Lena grabs a hold of one of Kara’s hands, the soft pads of her fingertips stroking gently over the broken skin. She cleaned the wounds right after the fight, banishing Kara’s squire from the tent with little more than a stern look before bandaging her hands, finishing with the gentlest of kisses. There are few things Kara loves more in this world than her Queen when she’s being gentle. Except perhaps when she’s being cruel…

“And you care for my life?” Lena asks.

It is the first time she’s ever asked anything so personal of Kara. They’ve been playing this game for a while now, and Kara has been invited into Lena’s personal chambers more times than she can count, but there has always been a distance. There’s been a coldness to Lena’s affections, and as much as Kara wishes it was different, it never was. Until this moment.

She worries for a moment about what to say. Does Lena want to hear her truth, or will that make her rescind Kara’s invitation into her bed? Losing this, whatever this is, to an unfortunate truth Kara is more than happy to keep tucked far away inside herself is the last thing she wants.

“I am your knight, aren’t I?” Kara replies. It is a safe answer. It doesn’t give much away. She should’ve known it wouldn’t be good enough.

“That is the answer of a sycophant. I thought—”

Before Lena can continue Kara pulls her down and presses their lips together once more. It seems the Queen does want the truth, and that is something Kara has been holding inside of her for far too long.

“Of course I care. I may not be much like anyone else, but I share with them an appetite for beautiful things. Beautiful things disappear from this world every day. Your death would’ve been a terrible loss.”

“ Just my beauty, then?”

It takes only a small burst of strength— Kara ignores the complaints of her thigh and arm muscles —to flip them around. With Lena below her she wastes no time as she attaches her lips to the pale skin of the woman’s neck. Her tongue teases the freckle she knows to be there, a freckle guilty of distracting her many a time, and she smiles when she feels Lena’s arms wrap around her.

“Do you think me so superficial?” Kara mumbles into Lena’s neck. “Have I not always cared for you? Obeyed your every command? Fulfilled your every wish? ”

“Such are your duties,” Lena groans when Kara’s lips move down to her nipples.

Kara quickly replaces her mouth with a hand as she moves ever lower, noses the patch of curls that awaits her, and teases Lena’s most sensitive spot with the tip of her tongue. “ Is this my duty too, then?”

A loud moan rips from Lena’s throat as she widens her legs even further, allowing Kara more access.

“I have cared for you from the moment I first saw you,” Kara admits. She laps up some of the moisture starting to form between Lena’s thighs and then looks up, meeting her Queen’s eyes, studying their widened pupils with fascination. “There is nothing I would not do for you, Lena. Nothing at all.”

“So it’s not just my youth you treasure ?”

Kara feels Lena’s strong fingers tangle in her curls, pushing her closer. She smiles and sighs, because how could someone so powerful, so strong, and so intelligent, be so damn stupid at the same time?

“Youth is fleeting,” Kara says as the vibrations of her voice and the movement of her lips teas e Lena ever so slightly. “I plan to care for you for a very long time.”

“You do?” Her voice sounds strained and her free hand tangles in the bear’s fur.

Kara hums once more, a smile playing on her lips . “When your hair is grey and your hands are wrinkled, when your bones creak and your hearing starts to go, I will still be here, worshipping every inch of you.”

Lena giggles and pulls on Kara’s curls. “I never knew you to be a poet, Sir Kara .”

And that is the last they speak that night.


End file.
